


Quality Questions

by flowersforgraves



Series: hc_bingo round 8 [1]
Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: In which Hochstetter asks the questions, and Hogan deflects.prompt: interrogation





	Quality Questions

He regains consciousness by degrees. His head hurts and his eyes involuntarily cross as he opens them. _Definitely concussed, then,_ he thinks. He blinks, raising his head ever so slightly to take in his surroundings. He’s tied to a chair in what seems to be someone’s office, indicating that maybe this is off the books. His hands are cuffed together and are resting on the table.

“Good,” says a familiar, German-accented voice. “You’re awake. Now we can begin.”

Hogan sighs. “Must we?”

“Yes,” Hochstetter replies, turning around in a way that Hogan’s sure he thinks is dramatic and intimidating, but really only highlights the fact that the major is so _short_. Honestly, it’s a little distracting. But Hogan shakes himself out of his thoughts, and refocuses on his interrogator. “Now. Pay attention. I will ask you the questions, and you will give me the answers. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Hogan answers. “And -- _ah!_ ” He’s cut off by the bucket of ice cold water dumped over his head. “What was that for?”

“The appetizer,” Hochstetter tells him, lip curling.

“Hey Major?” Hogan asks, deliberately careless.

“What,” Hochstetter says.

“So, uh, this… dinner is pretty nice and all, but when are we going to have tea?”

Hochstetter backhands him across the face. Hogan winces, feeling the skin sting. The ring on the Gestapo man’s finger had cut his cheek, and after a moment he feels a drop of blood slowly leak out of the wound.

“You will tell me how you blew up that bridge!” Hochstetter exclaims.

Hogan smiles. "I didn’t blow up the bridge,” he lies. “I’m a prisoner of war, Major. What can I really do from inside the toughest POW camp in Germany?” His lips twist with the irony of it.

Hochstetter reddens. “Liar! You and I both know that Klink is an idiot. Tell me what I want to know, and I can make sure things go easier on you!” He leans over the table to slap Hogan again for emphasis.

Hogan licks his lips, tasting the blood. The familiar coppery tang is almost comforting. At least he knows where he stands, here.

“Why do you assume I know anything about the bridge?” Hogan asks. “I mean, I’m just a simple POW.” He would spread his hands wide, open and friendly, but he’s still tied to the chair.

“You are anything but simple, Hogan,” Hochstetter says, leaning heavily on the table. He pounds his fist once, and Hogan hears the wood groan in protest. 

He tries not to smile. “Why Major! Are you flirting with me?” He flutters his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

Hogan has to do a double take to make sure there isn’t actually smoke coming out of the Gestapo major’s ears. He watches Hochstetter storm out of the room with a hint of smug satisfaction on his face, but sobers quickly when he realizes that his big mouth is likely going to get him tortured very, very thoroughly.

He doesn’t know how long he can hold out against that. 


End file.
